It was an average day in the parlour, indifferent to any other. A few clients had come in, some asking for touch-ups and others for a new design; some of which were still being tattooed, occupying your co-workers and leaving you as the receptionist for the time being... which was nothing short of boring.

As you sat there, you waited. Waited for a phone-call. Waited for the shop bell above the door to chime. Waited for literally anything... until you got exactly that.

The door opened, a tall figure walking into the studio as the bell dinged. A woman stood before where you were sat, her eyebrows furrowing together. From what skin you could see around her black tank-top, she was evidently very experienced with tattooing, her body decorated with ink. She brushed a tuft of her black hair out of her eyes, before leaning against the counter.

“I have an appointment,” She said hoarsely, her eyes staring into yours expectantly. “For Vasquez.”